Some Nights
by bisoux
Summary: On those nights he watches from the window as she sneaks back into the house.


**Some Nights**

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing besides liking Something Corporate.**_

_Standing on the edge of morning,  
scent of sex and New Found Glory  
playing as she's pulling back her hair.  
She drives away, she's feeling worthless;  
used again, but nothing's different.  
She'd stay the night but knows he doesn't care._

Driving down the now familiar street towards her house she couldn't help but regret what had just happened. But no matter how much regret she did feel she couldn't end it. No matter what she tried she always found herself going back to him, for the stolen moments of passion where she could pretend he was hers. Two dead mothers, an absentee father, the destruction of a life long friendship, drugs it was as if she could get through everything but him.

_At home by three;  
a deafening quiet.  
The porch light's off,  
guess they forgot it.  
She'd cry herself to sleep  
but she don't dare.  
And she wants to be a model,  
She wants to hear she's beautiful.  
She's beautiful._

She quietly pulls up to her house and shuts the engine off. Silently stepping into the darkened bungalow she knows that her roommates have long been asleep and forgotten that they had made plans for the evening. She doesn't blame them, they've gotten used to her disappearing acts. She wants to be mad, sad that they've forgotten about her but she doesn't dare let those emotions break through the solid exterior she'd spent years delicately perfecting. No to them she's the beautiful, smart artist that sometimes goes to somewhere unexplainable; but she always comes back, unlike so many others she would never leave.

_I want to save you,  
I want to save you. (Yeah)  
I need you  
to save me too.  
I want to save you._

Who can't help but fall in love with that curly-haired beauty sleeping in the room across the hall? I watch her quietly sneak into the house from my window and am glad she's made it back safe. Now that she's in the house I know I can sleep well, as pseudo-stalker as it may sound I've been watching her sneak back to her room for months, like a teenager afraid her parents will find out where she's been all night. But I know she's been with him again, the same time every month like clockwork. Coming home she'll sit in her car, give herself a couple moments for self berating, and then she'll put up her façade that I've long seen past. 

_Dressed by dawn and out the door,  
no lights, she memorized the floors  
so she could leave without being detected.  
She works till three; it's uniform,  
she dreams that he'll come by the store.  
She prays for days when boys mean she's protected._

Another day like the rest she heads to the gallery. Her pride and joy some would call it, and it truly was. She had started it herself a few years out of high school while she was in college, her roommates invested their faith and she invested herself. Since then she's been able to showcase her work, local artists and some amateur nights, her absolute favorite. She loves going to the gallery early, and sitting watching the latest pieces almost as if one will come alive. Instead on these mornings she'll wait and hope that its the day he'll come by. But she knows he won't, the gallery is hers, going there would mean he cared. She hated these mornings, she always become that brooding cheerleader she tried to leave in high school.

_  
And she wants someone to see her,  
She needs to hear she's beautiful.  
She's beautiful._

I stop by for lunch as I usually do before going to work and bring her some lunch. It's become habit, our routine. I noticed sometimes she'd sneak away from the house after nights with him, ashamed and in need for some personal time and she never brings anything to eat so here I am, watching her before I step into the building; she's sitting on her favorite bench staring ahead quietly contemplating. It's in those moments I can't help but be memorized by her fragile beauty she'll rarely let anyone experience.

_I want to save you  
I want to save you. (Yeah)  
I need you  
to save me too.  
I want to save you._

She can her him walking through the door, her personal caregiver she jokes from time to time earning a slight grin from his boyish face. Living with him and Haley she thought it'd be strange because they'd be so much closer but after a few months she knew that they were the family she had never had.

_And she won't sleep. (and she won't sleep)  
She won't sleep,  
and she won't sleep  
at all._

"Hey Peyt."

"Morning Chris, what'd you make me today?" she replies not looking from the painting on the wall.

"Ah, you know the usual, sandwich, some milk. You're getting scrawny." he teases sitting down beside her.

"Well, at least I have you to take care of me."

"Some has to."

_I want to save you  
I want to save you. (Yeah)  
I need you  
to save me too._

I want to save you  
(Let me save you)  
I want to save you  
(Let me save you)  
I want to save you  
(Let me save you)  
I want to save you  
(Let me save you)  
I want to save you


End file.
